Believe Now
by isthisjustfantasy
Summary: "It's all about getting people to believe, Sarah. That's the name of the game." Sarah tries to help her little brother get the Shield's autographs, but one member has other plans. [Dean AmbrosexOC] [smut!]


"That was amazing! Thank you for taking me, Sar," said the boy—well, he was a man really now, but he was slight of figure with a baby face. The WWE tour had lined up perfectly for Sarah, his older sister by six years, to take him to the show—the tickets had been his 21st birthday present—and then out to a bar for his first night out as a legal adult.

"You're welcome, Georgie. That was really fun!" Sarah replied as they walked from the arena to her favorite drinking establishment nearby, enjoying the warm summer night air.

George was as shy as Sarah was confident, even though they shared many facial features, like big blue eyes, dimples and thick chocolate brown hair.

Without many people in their small town that George could call a close friend, his sister seemed to be the only person that could bring out the confidence in him. During the show, he'd been hesitant at first to join in with the cheering and chanting for the wrestlers, and even though Sarah wasn't as big a follower of wrestling as George was, she'd helped him out of his shell by joining in with the chanting. By the end, George was among the loudest, chanting '_YES! YES!' _along with the whole arena.

"Now, let's get you out of that dorky wrestling shirt and into something that will make the girls actually want to come near you," Sarah joked, pointing to George's black 'Hounds of Justice' t-shirt, which had been a present from their parents, received that morning. Sarah had elected to dress for both the show and the night out afterwards all in one outfit, wearing a black tank top and tube skirt, paired with black ankle boots. She pulled an alternative shirt for George out of her handbag and waved it at him.

"Not here!" George said worriedly.

"Oh, alright," Sarah said. "Come around this corner then."

They went around the side of the building and George looked around.

"No one's going to see you except me," Sarah reassured him. Now they were out of the arena, George was back to his old shy, anxious self. Sarah hoped maybe some alcohol would loosen his inhibitions a bit. He really needed to meet a nice girl. Of course, Sarah also hoped to meet a nice _guy, _so she didn't exactly want to spend the whole time talking to girls for him.

When George had buttoned up his shirt, Sarah adjusted the collar and undid his top button.

"There, now you don't look so stuffy," she laughed.

They walked back out to the street and kept on towards the bar. She approached the burly man on the door and was let straight through. George was stopped by the bouncer, and told to pull out his ID.

"It's his birthday today," Sarah said, hanging in the entrance hall. George handed the bouncer his ID and he looked it over.

"Happy birthday, kid," he said.

"Thanks," George said quietly, just standing there.

"Come on Georgie!" Sarah called, laughing. "You're allowed in now."

George bolted after his sister, who was already making her way towards the bar. She took up a spot beside a man with long black hair and a bunch of tattoos, then looked back to see that George was hanging back by an empty table. She sighed and ordered two beers, taking them over to George at the table.

"You should have come with me, now you have to drink this beer instead of something nicer," she said, handing him the glass.

"I- I can't," he stammered.

"_Why_, Georgie? It's just a bar. It's okay," she said, trying to keep the frustration out of her voice. Sometimes he was just a little _too _timid.

"It's not the bar that's the problem, it's who's _at _the bar," he said in a harsh, panicky whisper.

"Who's at the bar?" Sarah asked. "A pretty girl?"

"No, it's the_ Shield_!"

The Shield... Oh, the _Shield_! She thought that muscled-up man at the bar looked familiar. Truth be told, Sarah hadn't watched a WWE product with any sort of regularity for years. She'd barely known who any of the wrestlers were that they'd seen tonight, but the Shield—she remembered them now, because they'd walked almost right by them as they came down through the crowd. There was the tattooed one (the one she just stood next to), the one with the hair, and the crazy looking one. She turned her head back toward the bar—yep, they were all there, all three of them.

"This is so lucky, George!" she said excitedly. "I'm sure you could go up and get their autographs."

"I don't know if I can, sis."

"Look, I'll even go up with you if you want," she offered. "Drink your beer first. It's liquid courage."

George started to sip on his beer, continuing to glance over at the three men. They were all drinking beer, too. He puffed up his chest a little—he was drinking the same beverage as the Shield. Once George's beer was finished, Sarah grabbed him by the forearm and pulled him back over to the bar.

"Excuse me," she said to the one with the tattoos. He turned around and looked at her. "Sorry to disturb you, but my brother is a really big fan."

Sarah pulled George up so that he was next to her as opposed to nearly hiding behind her. She nudged him.

"Could—could I maybe get your autograph, please?" George said quickly, almost too quiet for the noise level of the bar. But he was holding out a pen and his copy of the program, so he got the idea.

"Sure," said the man, smiling. He signed his name—Roman Reigns—on top of his picture in the program and gave it back to George. "Hope you enjoyed the show."

"I-I did. It was awesome," George said, excitement creeping into his voice. "For a minute I thought you guys were gonna lose, but that spear came outta nowhere!"

Roman chuckled.

"Thanks so much," Sarah said to Roman as George got up the courage to ask the next man, the one with the hair, for his autograph. "He's super shy, I didn't know if he'd even talk to you."

"It's cool," he said. "Did you enjoy the show, too?"

"I did, I mean I mainly went for him—it's his birthday today, actually. But it was great! I'll definitely come back next time you guys are in town."

"Awesome, look forward to seeing you there."

As Sarah looked over to see how George was doing on his own, she sensed trouble. It looked like he had gotten his second autograph, but was now facing the third member of the Shield, and he didn't seem to be doing well.

"Excuse me," she said to Roman, and went over to George.

"Hey, what's wrong with this guy, honey? He won't talk to me," said the Shield member. From a distance in the ring Sarah had thought the man looked like a complete psychopath, but up close he seemed almost normal and—god help her if he wasn't the most handsome man she'd seen in a while. It annoyed her that she thought that, because he was smirking, almost sneering, at George, and George looked like a deer in the headlights.

"I'm sorry, my brother is super shy and has anxiety. Umm, could you sign his program please? He'd really appreciate it." Sarah put her hand to the back of George's elbow to try to edge the program and pen towards the guy.

"If your brother wants an autograph he can ask for it himself," he said, not moving to take the program or pen at all.

"George," she whispered. "Come on, you can do it."

But George said nothing and the guy, the crazy looking one, he just laughed. George broke away from Sarah and disappeared into the crowd. Sarah looked back at the man. He winked at her, almost like a challenge, and she was not quite sure if it was rage or lust in that moment forming in her belly. Whatever it was, it made her feel sick.

"Thanks for your time, guys," she said in the direction of all three of them, then went off after George.

When she found him, he was sitting alone, looking at his Shield booklet, grimace on his face, tears in his eyes, stubbornly refusing to let them roll down his face.

"Hey, two out of three ain't bad, right?" she said, trying to cheer him up. "That last guy was clearly a douche."

"Dean Ambrose," George said. "His name is Dean Ambrose. And he is my _favorite _member of the Shield. Or was."

Dean Ambrose. She cursed the name internally. 'Never meet your heroes,' she remembered her father telling her. Sarah was kicking herself for thinking it would be a good idea to have George meet his favorite superstars. She should have protected him—gone up by herself and done it. If he had been rude to just her, well, she didn't give a flying fuck.

"How was the middle guy, though? The one with the hair? Was he nice?" she probed.

"Seth Rollins? Yeah, he was really nice. I don't know, once I got up to Ambrose I just—he looked at me and I just kind of froze." George looked down. He was disappointed in himself again, Sarah could tell.

"It's alright, George. He was pretty intimidating." Sexually, perhaps, Sarah thought. She wouldn't add that. "I'll go get us another drink. What do you want this time?"

"Whatever you think will be good."

Something strong, then. She needed to get her brother a lot tipsier before the night was through. If possible, maybe she could get him drunk enough to forget the meeting with the Shield ever happened, and then when he saw the two autographs he'd gotten, she could tell him that he met them in the bar, and they were all super nice, but Ambrose wasn't with them.

She went back to the bar and ordered a couple of tequila shots this time. She smiled at Roman and Seth as she approached them.

"Hey, is your brother alright?" Roman asked.

"Yeah," Sarah said, glancing over at Ambrose, who was staring at her. She tried to peel her eyes back. "He's fine. Thank you guys again for being so kind."

* * *

George was definitely tipsy now, but Sarah had a much higher tolerance, and besides, she wanted to stay sober enough to take care of George, so she didn't feel like drinking too much more. She did, however, feel like a cigarette. She hadn't had one all week—trying to quit—but the stress of tonight had made her feel like one would help her relax a little more.

She stepped through a fire exit and out into a tiny deserted courtyard behind the bar, a fresh breeze rolling over her. The night had cooled down significantly. She drew a cigarette out of the packet.

"Want a light?"

She looked in the direction of the voice. Oh, Christ. Dean Ambrose was there, leaning against the wall like a James Dean wannabe in his silly black muscle t-shirt, smoking a cigarette.

"Sure," she said, walking over. He drew a lighter out of his pocket and lit her cigarette. She walked back over to where she was, putting distance between the two of them, that seeming the safer thing to do, dragging in the smoke from her cigarette.

"Do you mind if I ask you why you were a dick to my brother?" she said, breaking the silence, words coming out of her before she could stop them. "He's just a really big fan of you guys, and you're his favorite apparently, though I don't understand why."

Dean raised an eyebrow and pushed off of the wall, walking over to where Sarah was leaning.

"What's your name, sweetheart?" he said, blowing smoke out to the side.

"Why do you care?" she retorted.

"'Why do you care', that's an interesting name," he said, tilting his head to the side. "I like to know who I'm talking to."

"I'm Sarah."

"And your brother's name?"

"George."

"Did you enjoy the show tonight, Sarah? I assume that's where you've been." He was standing close to her now, close enough to be able to catch his scent—the cleanly smell of soap mixed in with the alcoholic smell of the bar and the smokiness of his cigarette. It wasn't an enticing smell, but she found herself... _enticed_, regardless. She kept her poker face.

"Yeah, it was good. Things have changed since I last watched, though."

"And when was that?" he asked.

"Oh, maybe 2005, 2006?"

"Few new faces, then."

"Yours included. Seems like they let anyone in nowadays. I liked Chris Jericho's match, though." In reality, she knew Dean was an incredibly talented wrestler. That had been evidenced even in the small amount of time she saw him in the ring tonight. She just felt like being hostile.

"So you don't even really know who I am, then? Why I might act this way?"

Sarah shook her head. "My brother told me your name. And I know you act like a damned psychopath in the ring."

Dean laughed, taking in one final drag of his cigarette before letting it fall to the ground beside them. He stomped on it with his foot.

"It's all about getting people to believe, Sarah. That's the name of the game."

He was within inches from her now, and she'd let it happen, god, she'd wanted it to happen somehow—to be close to this weird, sadistic, goddamn purely sexual creature. She couldn't tell where her disgust for his behavior ended and her lust for his body began.

"I'm sure I could make you."

As he growled the words out Sarah felt sick with anticipation, her breathing was shallow as she looked at Dean's lips, and his neck, ashamed to want the man who had reduced her baby brother to near tears. She looked away as he brought his face down to hers.

"Don't try and convince yourself that you don't want me," he hissed in her ear, bringing a cool hand up between her thighs, resting there, inches from the place where she was throbbing now, so desperate for—but when he brushed up against her there she gasped and shut her eyes, electricity shooting up from her core.

Her cigarette dropped to the ground and lay there smoldering. When he pulled aside her underwear and touched her, skin to skin, he let out a satisfied little growl, and she knew he'd found her wet—oh Jesus, she was completely drenched.

He probed a finger through her folds and then briefly dipped inside of her. Unaware she'd been holding her breath, she exhaled a small moan, her mouth and her body both betraying her now.

"I mean, I like that you're trying to be a good sister," Dean growled in her ear, fingers still moving, circling, under her skirt. "I think that's really sweet. I like a girl with good morals. They're so much more fun when they finally _let go_."

He took his other hand and moved it to her shoulder, hooking his hand under the strap of her top and pulling it down, exposing her breast. He took hold of her nipple in his hand and tweaked lightly, making her head tilt back and her mouth fall open. That was when she knew she was lost.

"Don't make me think about my brother right now," she muttered, arching her back into Dean as he twisted again, his fingers below her skirt starting to increase their rhythm.

He bent his head down and took her lips finally, tongue immediately probing into her open mouth. She brought her hands up, one latching to his hair, the other hooking his belt, causing his pelvis to contact hers. He was already astoundingly hard, but Sarah had an inkling it could still be improved.

Keeping her lips to Dean's, she started to fiddle with his belt, unbuttoning his pants. She reached inside and found him through his boxers, squeezing, smirking into his lips when he groaned.

She pulled his boxers down to his thighs and wrapped her fingers around his length, stroking all the way up to the head, then sliding back. His hand underneath her skirt twitched and sent his finger plunging into her, causing her to bite down on his lip. She couldn't concentrate like this. She grabbed his forearm and pulled him away from her. He looked at her, confusion and lust written on his face, but he started to smile when she lowered herself down in front of him.

She licked his tip before taking him fully, sliding her tongue all the way down his shaft, then back up again, sucking and hollowing her cheeks as she went. Dean groaned and moved to put both his hands on the wall, steadying himself as she worked on him. Planting his feet so he was steady, he moved one hand down to brush her long brown hair out of her face, wanting to see his cock disappear inside her mouth.

She looked up at him, eyes wide open, and he resisted the urge to immediately throat fuck her at the sight. He settled for simply rocking his hips against her mouth while she sucked him, and as one of her hands came up to gently cup his balls he felt himself twitch—the familiar twitch. Not wanting the encounter to come to an end so quickly, so to speak, he pulled back and out of her mouth. She stood up, looking confused.

"I, uhh, couldn't let you do that much longer," he said, making straight for her skirt again. He hiked up her skirt and pinned her to the wall, his wet cock coming to rest on the outside of her underwear.

"Wait a sec," he said, but Sarah was desperate, pawing his shirt, biting at his neck. She'd become one-minded—she didn't even know where she was, but she knew she had to have him inside of her, and quickly, before she burned up like a supernova.

She heard the tearing of a package and the rolling of latex rubber. Of course. A moment later, he was pulling her underwear aside and hooking her leg around his back. He guided his tip inside her, picking up her other leg as he did so, so that she was wrapped around him. He slid in the rest of the way so easily, almost too easily. As she sank down onto him her mouth opened up and a pleasured whimper escaped, quickly swallowed up by his mouth on hers.

He started to move in long strokes, almost completely emptying her before thrusting straight back in, every time hitting that sweetest of spots. He muffled her cries with his hand.

"Shh, baby," he growled. "Oh, god, no wonder, you're so tight! When was the last time you were fucked like this?"

He removed his hand from her mouth so she could answer. He leaned back from her so he could watch her face as she tried to reply, still holding her up, turning to short shallow little thrusts.

"Fuck!" she cried, then managed to breath out, "A while."

"Glad I could help," he muttered into her ear, then went back to his hard, concentrated thrusts.

As she tightened her legs around him, he was pulled into an even deeper angle and this time it was Dean who found himself struggling to keep quiet.

"Fuuuuck, baby," he growled, adjusting to the new angle. He was balls deep into her, completely buried, and she was clenching now, it felt like, as she got louder and louder.

"Oh god, I—" she couldn't finish her thought before her world melted and she tightened around Dean's cock, hips bucking against him, legs tensing and pulling him into her. She was coming intensely and milking him for all he was worth, and he was trying to give it to her, watching her face contort as he roughly drove into her.

"Oh shit," Dean muttered before he followed her over the edge, completely mindlessly fucking her against the wall.

They were both breathing hard against the wall, Dean still holding her up by both legs like it was effortless. He slipped out of her as she wriggled her way down, pulling her skirt back to its normal position.

She kind of didn't know what to say once they were finished.

"My brother's probably looking for me," she said quickly, smoothing her hair down, hoping her face wasn't too flushed.

Dean was still zipping up his pants when Sarah wandered back inside, figuring that they probably shouldn't walk in together anyway. She found George, still at the table, sipping on a beer.

"Did you go get that by yourself?" she asked, pointing.

"Yeah," George replied.

"Impressive," she said, laughing. "Although I'm supposed to buy all your drinks tonight, birthday boy!"

She thought he was about to say something back, but his mouth clamped shut as he looked just past her.

"What?" she said, spinning around. There was Dean again. She looked at him warily, desperately wishing him not to say or do something that gave away what had just conspired between them outside.

"You want that autograph now, kid?" he said gruffly. George simply nodded and scrambled for his pen and program. Dean signed his name over his picture and handed it back, then took a napkin from the table and wrote something on it before giving it to Sarah. She smiled at him as he handed the pen back to George, before walking away without saying anything else.

"Maybe he's not such a douchebag after all," she said, loud enough for him to hear across the bar.

George was grinning at his completed set of autographs, then looked over at Sarah, holding her napkin.

"What did he write to you?" he asked, reaching over. She pulled it away, keeping it mostly folded over. She opened it slightly to peek at the message inside.

He had scrawled a question, 'Believe now?', followed by a string of digits, which if Sarah didn't know better, would say looked awfully like a cell number.

She looked over at Dean, raising her eyebrows to him. He winked back at her. That wink again. Sarah took her phone out of her bag and typed in the digits into the recipient box, then typed out a quick message.

'Not sure if I believe yet. You may need to be more convincing'

A moment later, Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, Sarah watching out of the corner of her eye as George talked freely. Her phone vibrated in her hand.

'You don't know what you're getting yourself into beautiful'

No, she didn't, but she rather thought she'd like to find out.

* * *

**Author's Note: Hey guys, I've had a lot of interest in my turning this oneshot into a longer story... Just thought I'd put it out there that at this stage I have no such plans. It just don't feel like it has anywhere left to go... However, I won't rule out the possibility of there being a sequel somewhere down the track.**


End file.
